MORRO DE SÃO PAULO

After a hard year work work work, we decided to head north for a week. Ilha de Tinharé is a just off Salvador, Bahia, and the bustling port town of Morro de Sao Paulo is the place to do very little.

We flew straight to the Pousada Vila dos Corais from Salvador airport. This was an unexpected luxury,  but what a treat! - Always wanted to know what it felt like to be one of those swanky types stepping of the tiny executive flight. Now I know. It's pretty cool. The flight home was a different story - put it this way, zero visibility can surely only be fun in limited situations - and in my humble opinion, those planes (or any other vehicles for that matter)  - thoroughly deserve the luxury of being able to see.

Morro de Sao Paulo International Airport

Anyhow - the rest of the week was pretty straightforward - lovely food (all the dende scented delights you could hope for - best go easy on that stuff if you don't eat it that often!) - and stunning shallow beaches for toddlers to fill their buckets with little fish and crabs, rather than the more familiar species of empty beer can and crisp packet found on Copacabana!

(don't get me wrong - I love Copacabana, but the way some people just throw all their crap on the sand is starting to get to me. My latest in a long line of reasons for learning Portuguese more quickly is so that I can be brave enough to pick up someone's crap and give it back to them-- 'Oi, you slovenly bastard, I think you forgot something! - How about putting it in a bin so my kid doesn't keep pulling your cigarette butts out of his sandcastles? Have a nice day.')

Anyway, the Beach in Morro was stunning - our little guy complained at one point that the sea was too hot! - Poor little mite - I guess Brighton must be becoming a distant memory....

Anyhow as our delightful week of doing very little, the Christmas and New Year punters were arriving in force, and it looked like DJ Jane on the top of the hill was going to be in for several long nights. What a beautiful place to make your resolutions though - I only hope that the fire-wielding hippy chick we saw in the square manages to set fire her Catherine wheel-come-Hula Hoop in time. (on the night we were there, the breeze was posing a threat to her eyebrows and her sanity).

Those Magnificent Toddlers.....

Well, the end of term is well and truly upon us and already there is so much to tell. - The last event before we headed of into the Bahian sun was the show. Here goes, I'll try and keep this brief.

Our two year old gets stuck into his daily grind like all other two year olds. And when faced with the opportunity of becoming Mr and Mrs Worthington, we naturally could not resist.

So we paid R$140 for the costume and R$30 each for the tickets, dressed him up like he's never been dressed up before and headed on down to the 500 seat theater to bill and coo with all of the other assembled multitude.

The theme? Our little bloke and all of his mates were all Santos Dumont. Their year (pretty much half their lives) together had come to this. All of the trials and tribulations of parties and biting and nits and the shits culminated in a fine display of biggles-like prowess as the animateurs we have come to know over the year pranced about the stage with 10 times more aplomb than their toddling charges!

How did he do? - Well, if you were two and someone dressed you up as the father of Brasilian aviation and then blasted music at you as the curtains opened to a gathered herd of paperazzi, I reckon you might do a pretty good impression of a rabbit in some particularly large headlights.

That's precisely wat he did. Awwwww.

(photo to follow - watch this space!)

If you don't take this off soon, I'm going to go mental....

I like to ride my bright orange bicycle.....

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For a good number of weeks now, there have been a growing number of bright orange bike stations appear around the town. I heard a rumour, that they'd tried it before and they all got nicked. Well, they're definitely trying it again.

A Rio Cyle track - right in the middle of the bloody road. Nice.

Much like the Boris (and Barclays) Bikes of London - I like that the bank that did so little for the man on London's streets is now charging hime for a two-wheeled tour - Itau is now sponsoring a fleet of bright orange, six-speed beauties for the man (or woman) on Rio's streets to go out and get mangled in the traffic.

Its astonishingly good value at R$10 per month if you prepay by card. Just rock up at the station and call the number from your mobile. Type in the bike's number and it will be magically unlocked from afar. Now dive into the traffic and have an hour's dicing with death.

When you're done, just return the bike to any of the stations dotted around town. (you have to pay an extra R$5 if you go over an hour)

Simple eh? Its gonna be the Amsterdam of Latin America. Maybe.

Back in Brighton, there's an anual naked bike ride - maybe that might manage to make the traffic at least slow down a bit - what do you think?

Everybody Cut!

My job has always been a giggle- even if there are times when I wonder if it's helping me to descend gradually into insanity. To be honest, I don't think anyone needs a job to do that - if you just relax and let it all wash over you, insanity will surely come.

So, I spend my working day teaching music. I work with bi lingual musical legends and between us we steer bi lingual children through a sea of crochets and quavers, and for the most part we get away with it.

So, as we fast approach our summery Christmas, the heat is on on in every which way. It is, after all, the most musical time of the year.

The older students are performing the musical Footloose. And the band of local musicians we have hired are superb. I get the pleasure of trying to tell them how it all works and they are doing their best to make sense of my shocking Portuguese. I can't believe it's actually working out.

I'm actually having the time of my life - reckon they should have hired Brazilians for the original. It would have been a right laugh.

So here it nearly is - Footloose, a carol service, a couple of gigs, and then we can call it a year.

Marvellous.

Location:R. Macedo Sobrinho,Rio de Janeiro,Brazil

MOO!

So, there's cows everywhere. Let's try and get someone posing in front of each one. Even as I write, I'm trying to devise a booze-related cow crawl - something along the lines of 'how many cows can you have a booze with in an afternoon?' - but in the meantime, here's our little fella with the local cow. Gotta love all this bovine potential for beery chaos. Watch this space.

Holiday Wednesday

Back in the UK, random days off usually happen on a Monday. No Idea why - here they happen on whichever day has been bagged by the occasion deemed worthy of allowing the nation to do as it pleases for 24 hours.

So, it was bank holiday Wednesday today, and I've had a mini weekender all in 24 hours. Last night (Tuesday, but effectively Friday)  I hit the glorious Pavão Azul  in Copacabana, and behaved precisely like it was Friday night. I was, after all celebrating having made it through 37 years relatively unscathed.

Chicken, feijao and beer.

This morning (Wednesday) was effectively Saturday, so me an the little rascal watched kids TV and then headed out for an early lunch (which was effectively Saturday night) - we had Galeto and he demolished an unholy amount of feijao. Good news, 'cause he spent the next 2 hours (effectively Sunday lunchtime) spark out in the buggy, and I whiled away the time at one of my prefered kiosks watching the world go by. Many of the 'world' were, incidentally, a thousand or so pissed up students on their 'Dawn of the Dead' style zombie march. Quite entertaining.

The Brama kiosk, just near Barraca 86 - Barraca de Fatima

The he woke up, and I spent Sunday afternoon in the park with Jed (see what I did there?). And then our early evening scran was at the old favourite on Belford Roxo - Pizza and a bottle of Original to boot.

And no Sunday on a Wednesday is complete without chasing after your child while he tries to drive...

Now its Sunday night and I'm snoozy to say the least. And its Thursday tomorrow. Only 2 days till next weekend. Get in!

Just the two of us....

So, mum is working away back in blighty in the freezing bloody cold, where the trains are late, and the chavs take to the streets and pilfer the flat screens they need to survive. Back to the Horse & Groom and the beer in glasses big enough to swim in. Am I jealous? Yep. A wee bit. More than anything I miss us being an invincible trio.

When we moved to Brazil I had no idea how much it would remind us how close we are. Dealing with this whole adventure is the ride of my life, and I love every second. Even if it takes some reflection to love the shit bits.

Right now I'm sinking cold beer on the beach, waiting for him to wake up for the next installment of his glorious 2 year old life. I just want to share every last drop of it. (his 2 year old life, not my beer)

And to be honest I'm pretty knackered too.

Still... She'll be back before we know it. Best go and do the pots.

another cheeky Copa tinny, in a glass this time - it is Sunday after all....

Abacashheeeee!